Mungo Gorsson and the Room of Obvious Truths
by Cuaglar
Summary: The sequel to Mungo Gorsson and the Several Stoned Sorcerors, the Scottish Hufflepuff returns to deal with dementors, Animagi, and pumpkins.
1. Chapter One: The Burst Birthday

**Chapter One: The Burst Birthday (Balloon)**

Not for the first, (nor the last, nor even the middleth, for that matter,) time, and argument had broken out at the home of the Gorssons. Mr. Bungo Gorsson, an austere-looking man with business-like hair and large ears, had tried, unsuccessfully yet again, to persuade his son, Mungo Gorsson, to try out for the post of Beater that year at Hogwarts, School of Wtchcraft and Wizardry.

"Mungo, its about time you overcame this foolish fear of heights. When you're on a broom, it doesn't even matter." Mr. Gorsson wheedled. "And the medical staff there is exceptionally fine, even if by some wild chance you fell."

"I'm noot gooin' t' goo careering off into th' sky, just to pursue murderous black balls." Mungo retorted. "An', yes, th' bat is a vera nice one, but I doon't want to play Beater."

It was Mungo's birthday, on July 15, and everything had been going fine until he had unwrapped a Beater's bat and a set of Practice Bludgers ("Wouldn't knock a cherry off a cake!" the advertisement claimed.) and the news that his father fully intended him to play Beater for the Hufflepuff team, overlooking Mungo's fear of heights and his fear of having extremely heavy,iron objects hurtling at him. He was, he felt, not the right build for a Beater. He was very tall and thin, the kind of person Aristotle or whatever his name was would point at and say, "There, see, that's what I mean about a line having length but no breadth." He wore glasses, and had very long hair that was generally tied back into a ponytail, but these facts were irrelevant to good Beatering.

"But… But… Janice, tell Mungo what I need to say." Bungo stuttered, turning to Mrs. Gorsson.

"It really is quite silly, Mungo. You should at least give it a try. I played Beater myself, when I was at school, and I never get hit. In fact, the Beaters never get hit, as they're the ones doing the hitting." Mrs. Gorsson said. To Mungo, this was rather odd news, as his mother was dreadfully thin, and looked nearly dystrophic.

"That's right, Mungo. You should give it a chance." Mr. Gorsson said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression.

Mungo sighed. It would serve him right if they got their son back from term with his nose broken twice, like Professor Dumbledore.

"Besides, it'll build a brave character. You rather need one, Mungo, to get on in life." Mr. Gorsson.

That did it. Mungo had not told his parents, but he felt he had enough of a brave character, as evidenced last year. At the end of the term, Mungo had confronted an ancient menace, a living basilisk. The fact that it had been blind did little to demean his achievement, at least in his point of view. After all, it had almost gotten Harry Potter, the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord.

"All right." Mungo said grudgingly.

"Good, then its time for your last present." Mrs. Gorsson said. She got up, and walked upstairs. She came back with a long package wrapped in silver wrapping paper. On it was a card, which read:

"From Arsenus Jigger, to Mungo Gorsson, Happy Birthday."

"This was left to you by your grandfather, to be a present on your twelfth birthday. He got it on his twelfth birthday as well." Mrs. Gorsson said.

Mungo took the package, and gingerly unwrapped it. There was another, crudely wrapped package in brown paper.

"Dad was usually very busy. He never really did anything well, except for potions." Mrs. Gorsson apologized. Mungo shrugged, intrigued. He gingerly unwrapped the package.

In it was a slender, silvery broomstick. Its polished handle gleamed a little, only a little because there were quite a lot of scratches. The head was rather attractive, shaped like an arrowhead.

"It's his Silver Arrow. I know that they are vintage brooms, and that they are more frequently seen in museums than the Quidditch field, but it's a good broom all the same. It's nice and sturdy, has a good balance. I'll bet it's a lot better than that cruddy Shooting Star I rode at school." Mrs. Gorsson said. "Why don't you go and try it out?"

Mungo gulped. It did look very nice, but it _was _an old broom after all.

"All righ'." Mungo said, putting some cheerfulness into his voice. Mungo walked outside, holding the broom over his shoulder. Mr. Gorsson only paused to grab something from the table before following.

They walked quite a long while, getting out of sight of the town of Altnaharra, the Muggle town they lived near.The town was near a large loch, Loch Naver, and a good distance away from the town (and the loch, as there were occasionally fishermen) was a deserted meadow. It was in this meadow that Mr. Gorsson stopped.

"All right, here we are, Mungo. Get in the air." Mr. Gorsson said. Mungo set the broom on the ground, like he vaguely remembered from his flying lessons last year, and held his hand over it.

"Up." Mungo said. The broom gave a half-hearted leap, and settled down again.

"Do it again, Mungo." Mr. Gorsson suggested.

"Up!" Mungo exclaimed, louder this time. The broom hovered gently into his hand.

"All right, now put your leg over it, like so, that's right. Put right hand above the left hand, good, now off you go!" Mr. Gorsson said, correcting Mungo's posture and grip. He stood back.

Mungo hovered a little, feeling dreadfully silly.

"Pull up the handle a bit." Mr. Gorsson commanded.

Mungo did so, and the broom raised up a bit more. Quite suddenly, the sense of it struck Mungo, and he started flying. He flew up higher and higher, and then started whooshing around, the wind whistling in his ears.

'How could I have been scared of this?' Mungo thought

Mungo looked down.

'Oh yeah. Now I remember.'

Mungo clutched his broom tightly. The ground was too far away, too far away… Mungo fought to get a grip, but the ground was just too ruddy far away. Mungo pushed the broom handle down, gently, slowly easing himself back to the solid earth.

"Well done Mungo! Here, take this." Mr. Gorsson said, handing Mungo the Beater's bat.

"Oh no, Dad, I doon't wan' t' be a Beater-" Mungo protested.

"Ready? Go!" Mr. Gorsson said, obviously not listening. The two Practice Bludgers flew out of the box that he was holding, and Mungo was forced to fly up again, trying to hold on to both his bat and his broom.

This was a bad move. Both of the Bludgers immediately became attracted him, and zoomed towards him.

Desperate, Mungo flailed with his club.

"Use wrist movements!" He could hear Mr. Gorsson shouting. One of the Bludgers flew at Mungo's face, and he wildly swatted it away. It flew off, and Mungo felt a gentle prodding at his back. He looked back, and saw one of the Practice Bludgers pressing gently but firmly against the back of his robes (Author's Note: Mungo always wore wizarding clothes. His definition of looking like a Muggle is puttingon a jacket over his robesand wearing sneakers.)

"Well, I guess the advertisement told th' truth fer once." Mungo muttered. With his right hand, he quickly spun his broom about and whacked the Bludger towards the ground.

"Well done, Mungo, well done!" Mr. Gorsson yelled up at him. "You should be playing Beater at Hogwarts in no time!"

Mungo, as if to prove his point, knocked a Bludger towards Mr. Gorsson. There was a big difference between these Practice Bludgers and the real ones, but for the moment Mungo had forgotten in his joy of learning.

The Silver Arrow was really not such a bad broom after all. It over balanced sometimes when Mungo swiveled too hard, and it made a weird whistling sound when he went too fast, but other than that it was a great broom. Mungo and Mr. Gorsson practiced with the Bludgers for about another hour, and then went back to the house.

Mungo was eating lunch when suddenly an owl flew in through the window and landed on the table. This being the normal mode of communication for the Gorssons, and for the entire wizarding world, Mungo and Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson were not surprised. However, the fact that the owl was carrying a limp, red rubber thing in its talons did surprise them. Mr. Gorsson pulled the thing from the talons, and raised an eyebrow.

"It's a balloon. With a letter on it." He announced.

"Who'd try to send a balloon by owl?" Mungo wondered. He took the thing from Mr. Gorsson, and spread the balloon on the table. It read, in permanent marker,

_**Happy Birthday Mungo!**_

_**Sorry about mailing you this way. We're out of parchment, and we're having trouble with Emperor Frederick & Prof. Jingles so can't leave the house long enough to get more. So I decided to be original and send you this balloon. I borrowed this owl from our neighbor, (she's a mad old owl lady, keeps lots of owls) and she said that he was really gentle and wouldn't pop it.**_

_**Well, reply soon, and tell us whether your parents will let you come over here for the rest of the holidays. **_

_**Duncan Abendroth**_

_**P.S. Send paper.**_

"Ah, o' course. Only Duncan could write in such small letters to write a whole message on a balloon." Mungo said.

"Who's it from?" Mr. Gorsson asked curiously.

"It's from me friend, Duncan. Ye met him an' his parents on the train station." Mungo said. "He's invited me t' come an' visit him during the rest of th' holidees. Could I goo, mum?" Mungo asked expectantly.

"Hmmm… I don't know… Where does he live?" Mrs. Gorsson said.

"In Dover." Mungo replied readily. Duncan had told him often about how boring he thought Dover was.

"Well, that's not too far from London. We could probably manage it." Mrs. Gorsson.

"But we have to bring Penoria to London too. She's starting her term at Hogwarts this year." Mr. Gorsson. Penoria was Mungo's eleven-year-old cousin, and he was immensely fond of her.

"Aye, it would be a shame t' noot be here when she came." Mungo said.

"I know. Why don't you go over there, and then at the last week of the holidays you go to Diagon Alley, and we'll meet you there with Penoria." Mr. Gorsson suggested. "She's only coming on September 23 anyway. They'll have plenty of time to see each other."

"Then it's settled. Write them a reply, Mungo. Oh, and tell them that they will have to come and get you themselves. The car got broken-" Mr. Gorsson said.

"It wouldn't have broken if you hadn't parked it near the hedges when I was trimming them. You know what Severing Charms do to the ignition." Mrs. Gorsson said testily.

Mungo hurriedly went to the top of the house (which was built rather like a tower; it had only one room for each story) where his room was, and took out some of the parchment that he used for his homework. He started writing.

_Dear Duncan,_

_I got your letter fine, but I wouldn't trust your neighbor about the gentleness of her owls anymore, the balloon got popped._

_My parents say I can go, but our car's broken so you'll have to come and get me, I suppose. Not much has been happening, except for Dad seems dead-set on me playing Beater for Hufflepuff. I don't really know why._

_Well, see you when I see you._

_Mungo_

_P.S. I enclosed some parchment for you. Hope- _Here Mungo had to pause and look at the balloon for the odd names. _Emperor Frederick and Professor Jingles get better._

Mungo folded up the letter in such a way that it was its own envelope, and wrote Duncan's name on it. He found the owl that had delivered the balloon, and tied the letter to its leg. He sent it on its way, and left to sort out his presents.

Mungo had an odd dream that night. He had a dream that a huge black dog was sitting in a dank grey cell. A grey cloaked thing that made Mungo shiver, even in his dream, opened the door and set a bowl of some kind of food on the floor. The dog slipped past the figure, and started running through some kind of prison. Next moment, it wasswimming across a blank, cold body of water. The dog's eyes were set on some terrible goal.

However, the next dream dispelled the seriousness of this dream. He next had a dream that a Bludger was riding on his Silver Arrow and hitting him on the head with his own bat.

To Mungo's amazement, someone was bonking him over the head with his bat.

"Wake up, Mungo! Merlin's Beard, a hear of Erumpents couldn't wake you." Mr. Gorsson's voice came. "Quickly, pack, we don't want to keep them waiting."

Mungo woke up groggily. He pushed the bat away, and looked around.

"Why do I need t' pack?"

"Well, your friend and his parents arrived, and we don't want to keep them waiting!" Mr. Gorsson said, pointing out the window.

Outside stood Duncan Abendroth, waving vigorously. Next to him stood his parents.


	2. Chapter Two: The Warren

Chapter Two: The Warren 

Mungo opened up his window, and roared out to Duncan,

"How'd ye get here soo fast?"

"Our car. Have you ever been on the Knight Bus?" Duncan shouted back.

"No," Mungo yelled.

"Well, then I can't even begin to describe how it works. Pack your bags, it's chilly out here." Duncan bellowed.

"All righ'. Why doon't ye come in?"

"You haven't de-gnomed your garden in a long time." Duncan shouted, pointing at the area under Mungo's window. Mungo looked down. In front of the front gate surrounding the garden was a small contingent of gnomes, some armed with trowels and hoes, and some were riding wheelbarrows like chariots.

"Ah. Well, come around the back." Mr. Gorsson yelled. Duncan and his parents nodded, and walked out of sight.

Mungo, meanwhile, was hurriedly shoving his school-things into his suitcase. It took a bit of work, as he had scattered his books all over the place, depending on where he had been doing his homework. He found that all of his parchment had somehow wound up between _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _and his old copies of Professor Lockhart's books, creasing the sheets heavily.

Finally, puffing slightly, Mungo managed to get all the stuff into his suitcase except for his broomstick and his Beater's bat. He laboriously hauled the suitcase down the staircase, cursing the little note that said he couldn't use magic during the holidays (the note had had a short lifespan; Mungo had thrown it into the fireplace at the first opportunity.)

Duncan was sitting at the kitchen table with Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson and his parents. He was a short, skinny boy with a very thin, almost horsy face and slightly tidy blonde hair. He smiled at Mungo, and said.

"Hullo. Ready to go? We can get to the car while this lot are sorting things out." Duncan said, nodding towards his parents and Mungo's. They were getting into the boring details about Mungo's stay.

"All righ', good-bye Mum, good-bye Da'." Mungo said, waving good-bye.

"Good-bye, Mungo. We won't detain Mr. and Mrs. Abendroth much longer, you have fun." Mr. Gorsson said.

"Did you pack clean socks?" Mrs. Gorsson asked.

"Aye, Mum." Mungo said. Mrs. Gorsson always made a point to make sure Mungo had clean socks all the time.

"Did you find _Gadding with Ghouls_? I thought I saw it in the living room…"

"I woon't need it this year, Mum. See ye!" Mungo said, hurriedly exiting with his trunk.

Mungo and Duncan walked around the house, to the gravel pathway in front of the house.

Parked a little away from the road was a vibrant green car. It was an old one, with fins and little angles. The gnomes were edging slowly towards it, trowels lowered. Mungo brandished his club and rushed at them, yelling,

"Raaaah!"

The gnomes gave frightened squeaks and ran back into the sheltering magical herbs of the garden.

"That was rather mean," Duncan remarked Mungo pushed his trunk into the luggage compartment. It had to squeeze quite a bit to get in.

"Well, someone has t' do it. It gets oot o' hand when they start usin' gardenin' tools." Mungo said, snapping the lid closed.

"Eh, I guess so. We don't have gnomes. Too urban." Duncan replied. He got in the back seat of the car as Mr. and Mrs. Abendroth came from the house. Mungo got in as well, and saw that the inside of the car was almost completely covered in purple velvet.

Mr. and Mrs. Abendroth got in the car too, and Mr. Abendroth took out some kind of silvery instrument and set it on the dashboard.

Quite suddenly, they were off. The car zoomed along the road faster than Mungo expected, with trees and rocks passing by in a multi-coloured blur. They passed by hills and rivers and lochs, and then the car gave a loud bang, like a fire-cracker.

They were now driving along a different street, in what looked like Edinburgh. Despite it being rather crowded with parked cars, the Abendroths' car seemed to just go through them like a ghost. With another bang they were rolling along a road beside a nice green meadow, but they were going far too fast for Mungo to appreciate it.

The next bang was rather surprising. It brought them right inside the courtyard of the Tower of London. Fortunately, there was no one there except for one extremely startled Beefeater on a late watch. (He later claimed that he had seen a spectral wagon, on whichAnne Boleynwas riding to her execution.) One last bang, and they were driving along a street in Dover. The car slowed down in front of a white picket fence.

"Well, here we are. The Warren." Mr. Abendroth said. He got out of the car, and grabbed Mungo's trunk out of the back while the rest of the passengers stepped out and went inside the gate.

At first Mungo wondered where the house was, and then he spotted it. Set into a shallow hill was a blue rectangular door, along with some windows lined with some vines or other. Mrs. Gorsson opened the door and quickly ushered Mungo and Duncan in.

There was a long hallway, which curved subtly out of sight. There were doors leading off into other rooms, and windows peeping through the hills and letting the early dawn in.

However, what was really startling about the place was thehuge amount of cats. There were cats everywhere, of every colour and description. Some were pacing the floor meowing for food, and some were perched on special shelves that ran throughout the house. They all looked up when Duncan and Mrs. Gorsson came in, and dozens of eyes gleamed at them, some green, some yellow.

Duncan waded into their midst, stroking some and picking up others.

"Hullo, Emperor Freddie, getting along with Professor Jingles? There's a lad. Oh, look at you, poor little Oofy, you got your claw stuck again."

A horde of tails were fawning themselves on Mungo's legs, fluffy tails, scrawny tails, and midway fuzzy tails. Mungo nervously raised a leg to step over the masses, and took a step before they started fawning on that leg too.

"I asked you if you liked cats, remember?" Duncan said, grinning. He waved his hands at the massed cats and they dispersed, mainly to the kitchen.

"We have about twenty cats living here, and twelve kittens." Duncan said proudly.

"Ah. Tha's a lot o' cats." Mungo commented. He actually really liked the cats, but he was having difficulty in processing so many of them at once.

"Like I said, my parents are Squibs, and Squibs have something special with cats. Mum and Dad haven't told me yet." Duncan explained as he led Mungo down the corridor. There were quite a lot of cat-litter boxes lining the walls.

Duncan stopped at a green door, and led Mungo into a long dining room with lots of chairs.

"How can all this fit into one hill?" Mungo asked, perplexed.

"I think it had some kind of expanding spell from when the last witch owned it. A lot of our stuff is bought from wizards. Take a seat." Duncan said, gesturing to a chair.

Expectedly, there was a cat in it. Mungo carefully pushed it off and took his place. The cat immediately leapt back onto Mungo's lap, kneading it and purring.

"Yeah, Teacup's a sweetheart." Duncan commented, looking. Mr. and Mrs. Abendroth came in with some cereal and milk, as well as some oatmeal.

"Sorry, we haven't been out for a while. Emperor Frederick and Professor Jingles were scrapping like anything. We were afraid to leave them alone in case they hurt each other." Mr. Abendroth said. "Eat up."

Mungo poured himself some cereal clumsily, and the breakfast progressed slowly, with intermittent intervals of cats jumping on the table and being habitually pushed off again. After breakfast, Duncan scooped one of his favourite cats (a reddish orange tom named Tim Troll) and showed Mungo around his home.

Mungo had never been in such an odd house before. It had belonged to a witch, Duncan said, but there weren't very many magical things in the house. There were electric lights, and Mungo was absolutely perplexed by the air conditioning. The living room was a bizarre scene; there was a television right next to a red brick fireplace with a large pot labeled "Floo Powder," which was high out of any of the cats' reach. On the other side was a curious mix of Muggle books and wizarding books on a bookshelf that creaked alarmingly if anything approached.

Duncan's bedroom was normal, by wizarding standards. He had his books hovering in the air in orderly rows, and Mungo thought that the only place he had seen so many books was either Flourish and Blotts or the Hogwarts library. Indeed, Duncan's room was more like a library than a room.

"It's really devilish when our neighbours come over. They all just flop to the floor, making a really big mess. Then they think I'm sloppy." Duncan grinned. "But they pick themselves right back up after they're gone. It's a spell I did once, when I was little and Mum told me to go and clean up my room. It's been here ever since."

Mungo's room (the guest bedroom) was far more Mugglish. It had a plain, brass four-poster bed with pale blue sheets, a desk and a nightstand, and a digital alarm clock. Mungo later enjoyed winding the hands around and making it beep. He unpacked his stuff, organizing it much in the same disarray as it had been in his room. Mungo just felt more comfortable that way.

Mungo quickly got accustomed to the house, however odd it was. Mr. and Mrs. Abendroth both worked as veterinarians, and left the Warren pretty much all to Mungo and Duncan for most of the day. Mungo and Duncan would commonly spend those days in tidying up Mungo's homework (Duncan, being the bookworm he was, had finished his homework ages ago) playing Exploding Snap or Gobstones, or Mungo learning about Muggle technology (their substitute for magic.) Mungo learned the names ofabout half the cats, although he sometimes mixed them up, to Duncan's chagrin.

September 26 came sooner than Mungo expected, and early in the morning Mr. Abendroth and Mrs. Abendroth ushered Mungo and Duncan into the living room.

"Okay, today we're going to go to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies, and meet Mungo's cousin Penoria. We're going to use Floo powder, because we want to get there as early as we can. You've used Floo powder before, haven't you, Mungo?" Mr. Abendroth.

Mungo shuffled his feet.

"Erm, no, actually I haven't. Mum an' Da' could jest Apparate to Edinburgh and Horizon Alley when they wanted t' shop for magical supplies, and' they didn' need to take me along." Mungo explained.

"Ah. Well, you just walk into the fireplace," Mr. Abendroth said, crouching a little bit into the rather lowfireplace. "Sorry… And you take a generous bit of Floo powder, and say where you want to go, and then drop it to the ashes. Like so,"

Mr. Abendroth held out his hand for the Floo pot, which Duncan gave to him, and took a large amount of green powder.

"Diagon Alley!" Mr. Abendroth said clearly. With a roaring sound, green flames erupted and engulfed him, disappearing from view.

"It's really quite easy. Be sure to say it clearly." Mrs. Abendroth said. "In you go."

Mungo was reminded forcefully of the Muggle story of Hansel and Gretel as he climbed clumsily into the rather cramped fireplace. He grabbed a handful of the grainy Floo powder, and said,

"Diagoon Alley!" Or fully meant to. But he sneezed from the soot and the powder, and crashed his head against the lintel of the fireplace at the same time he said it. So, it was more like,

"Diaga-choo, bother-"

But it was too late to correct himself. He was suddenly violently whizzing about, with blurs of different fireplaces. He suddenly realized how Father Christmas did his chimney trick, and didn't envy him one bit.

Finally, and quite suddenly, Mungo shot out of the confusing maelstrom onto a stone tile floor. He picked up his glasses (which thankfully had only wound up in his hat, and had not been damaged) and brushed off his robes. Mungo took off his hat, and knocked the soot and ashes off it on his leg while he surveyed his surroundings. There was a long row of marble counters, with coins and jewels piled in a very strange fashion. There were golden scales, and long rolls of important-looking parchment, written in a language Mungo couldn't read. Mungo could not tell at all where he was.

A wizened old witch came into through the tall brass doors, and stared at Mungo. She stared for quite a while, and Mungo was getting nervous.

"Erm, hullo-" He started, but the old witch interrupted in a flow of apparently angry and unsatisfied talk in a foreign language.

"I say, erm, I think I'll just go now." Mungo interjected during a pause, and turned back to the fireplace. Then he remembered that he didn't have any Floo powder.

The witch was still talking, and getting angrier and angrier. Mungo shrugged his shoulders in a manner that was meant to show that he didn't understand anything and that he couldn't go back where he came from. However, there is only so much information you can convey by shrugging, and then only with careful training. Mungo lacked this, so all it looked was noncommittal.

The witch gave an exasperated sigh and went into a door behind him. There was another voice in there, and the witch emerged again, this time escorting an annoyed-looking goblin in a green uniform.

"What are you doing here?" The goblin asked in a strange accent, wrinkling his nose at Mungo's untidiness. Mungo, just remembering that he had been beating his hat against his shins the whole time, put it on.

"Erm, well, you see, I was usin' Floo powder t' git t' Diagon Alley in London, and I didn' say th' words righ'. And I jus' wound up here. Where is here, anywee?" Mungo asked cautiously.

"You are in the Croatian branch of Gringotts, in Zagreb." The goblin answered.

"Good lord!" Mungo exclaimed. "Do you have any Floo powder? I need t' git back t' Diagon Alley."

"Yes, for three Sickles, and three more Sickles for the unauthorized use of our fireplace." The goblin said, extending a claw-like hand. Mungo nodded and felt deeply into his pockets. He found a handful of coins, but they were mostly Knuts. Mungo found five silver Sickles, and then paid out the right amount of Knuts. The goblin counted them carefully, and said,

"That seems to be in order. The Floo powder is in the vase." The goblin pointed at an ornate vase on the mantelpiece of the fireplace.

"Thank ye." Mungo said, turning and walking to the fireplace. He cleared his throat, measured the top of the fireplace with his head, and nodded, comforted.

He took the Floo powder, and said,

"Diagon Alley!"

((Author's Note: A plague on the person who invented the word 'fireplace.' I mean, it's rather unimaginative. Like, "Hey, look, that's the place where we keep the fire." Might as well call the kitchen the 'foodplace', or something.))


	3. Chapter Three: Flourish and Blotts

Chapter Three: Flourish and Blotts 

After the commotion of Floo powder travel died down, Mungo saw that he was in the pub, the Leaky Cauldron. Standing in front of one of the tables was a red-haired boy, showing a newspaper clipping to a very annoyed-looking witch with a broom and mop.

"See, there, that's my family. My dad won the Daily Prophet Galleon Draw, and we all went to Egypt." He was saying.

"That's nice." The witch said, walking away as quickly as convenient. Mungo raised an eyebrow and shook his head as the boy grabbed some other random person and showed the clipping to him. After a minute, Mungo recognized him as Ron Weasley, Potter's friend. Mungo shrugged and dismissed it. He would see more than he wanted to of them at school anyway. Mungo climbed up and decided to go and look for his family.

An arm clasping his sleeve stopped him. Mungo looked, and saw a bald old hunchback. His eyebrows raised in shock. This was the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, known as Tom. But only last year, he had perfectly been normal, if only a bit bald, and now he was a distorted monster.

"Tom? What happened? Ye didn' use t'-" Mungo stopped, afraid of hurting the feelings of the landlord. "Ye were taller."

"Eh, sometimes we get rough customers in here. Ol' Galloping Greg tried to turn me into a camel when I told him I didn't accept credit from him any more. Haven't gotten around to getting it set right. I say, are you Master Gorsson?" Tom asked suddenly.

"Well, aye." Mungo said cautiously.

"Good, there was a party waiting for you. The Abendroths. They went on in to Diagon Alley, but they told me to send you along if you came, and to notify the Ministry if you didn't." Tom said, pointing to the door that opened to the courtyard to Diagon Alley.

"Ah, thank you." Mungo said, going though. He drew out his wand, and tapped the right brick.

As the pathway opened, Mungo strode into Diagon Alley. He loved being there; it was so full of surprises and nice little wizarding surprises. There weren't any magical folk in miles of Altnaharra, except for the Gorssons of course, which gave Mungo a sense of excitement whenever he entered a magical place.

Mungo walked along the street, looking for the Abendroths. He was peering into Quality Quidditch Supplies when a girl's voice called out.

"Hey! Mungo!"

Mungo looked around, and saw a small, brown-haired figure running towards him, Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson hurrying up behind.

The girl stopped in front of Mungo and beamed. Penoria was always good at beaming, Mungo recalled. She was always happy and vigorous, and nearly always had her hair in a braid. She wore glasses, but her face was just so happy and joyful that they were rarely ever noticed.

"Hi! I thought we'd never find you! Uncle Bungo's combed nearly all of Diagon Alley looking for you, and then he went and met the Abendroths and your friend, Duncan, and he nearly had a fit when he learned that you didn't end up here with Floo powder!" She chattered happily.

Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson finally caught up, panting slightly.

"Oh, thank goodness you came here at last. I hope you didn't go too far?" Mrs. Gorsson asked, digging in her pockets for something.

"Actually, I wound up in the Croatian branch of Gringotts." Mungo said.

"What!" Mr. Gorsson said, shocked.

"Wow! That far? You're accent's gone way out of hand, if you manage to screw up 'Diagon Alley' like that, Mung." Penoria said, giggling. Mung was Penoria's nickname for Mungo.

Mrs. Gorsson found what she was looking for, a large green brush, and started dusting the soot off of Mungo's robes.

"Well, you're a mess, there's no doubt of that. But at least you're here, in one piece." She said.

"Really, Mungo, you have to work on your enunciation. Honestly! Croatia!" Mr. Gorsson said, reeling.

"I didn' mispronounce it, I bumped me head and sneezed at the same time." Mungo explained.

"Mungo! Look at my wand!" Penoria said, getting out a long box. She fumbled a bit at the wrapping, and got out a longish, thin wand.

"Twelve inches, oak, phoenix tail feather in the core. How do they get feathers and all that stuff in there? Whatever. And Mr. Ollivander said that it was really odd that I got this wand, and he looked at me with some kind of weird look. He's creepy." Penoria said, flourishing it around.

"Penoria! You really shouldn't do that, you might put someone's eye out." Mrs. Gorsson said, laying a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, all right. Say! We should probably find the Abendroths now." Penoria said. "They'll want to know that you're here and all."

They found the Abendroths at the bookstore. They were staring transfixed at some kind of cage in the center of the store, and only noticed Mungo and Penoria and Mungo's parents when they came up and talked to them.

"Oh, hullo. Glad you managed to make it. We were getting worried. I say, look at those books." Duncan said, pointing back at the cage. Mungo peered over Duncan's shoulder, and saw a large amount of books, moving rather violently.

The bookstore clerk came out from around the counter with some kind of net. He sighed wearily.

"You don't need these books, do you? Not Hogwarts third year or more?" He said hopefully. "Please," He whispered under his breath.

"Erm, no, no we're not." Mr. Gorsson said, rather taken aback.

"Ah! Thank heavens! They're devils in print, that's what they are. Take my advice, and never buy one. Never stand close to one, for that matter. Take your arm off in a flash." The clerk said, warming up to his criticism of the book. "_The Monster Book of Monsters_! If I never stock them again, it will be too soon!"

"Erm, yes, quite, well, we need-" Mr. Gorsson started to say, but he was interrupted again by the clerk.

"Did I tell you yet about the _Invisible Book of Invisibility_? What's the point of a book that you can't see? They'll publish a _Deadly Book of Death _or somesuch before too long, you mark my words!" The clerk raved on, his tirade growing louder. Mr. Gorsson cleared his throat with an assertive noise.

"Quite. All we need is _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_ and the first-year set."

"Oh, yes, of course. Just a moment." The clerk walked off, slightly put out. Mr. Gorsson wrapped his hands in his cloak, and Mungo, Penoria, and Duncan wandered off to look at the books.

They did not have long to look, as the clerk soon returned with the proper books. Mungo thumbed through his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_ as they left the shop, just looking over them. Mungo sighed. They were even more complicated than last year…

The group ate lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and then went back into Diagon Alley to finish their shopping. They still had to get Penoria's potion ingredients, and Mungo had used nearly all of his over the summer in practicing making the potions that he had learned last year. Even though Potions was perhaps one of the most disliked subjects amongst the average student population of Hogwarts, it was Mungo's favourite class, second only to Transfiguration. He had inherited no small degree of talent in those two subjects from two of his grandfathers six generations ago, as well as strange memories that sometimes bobbed to the surface of Mungo's conscious.

Mungo, Penoria, and Duncan went to the Apothecary while Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson went to buy Penoria's cauldron. Mungo walked right into the middle of the shop and breathed in the, well, to him rich air. Penoria was coughing slightly from the stench that Mungo refused to detect.

"Mung, let's just hurry up and get the stuff. It smells weird." Penoria said.

"Quite right. Let's see, ye're gooin' t' need lots o' lionfish spines… Well, actually I didn' need it all that much in my first year, but, th' more th' better. Oh, look, a sale on beetle eyes, never have too much of those…" Mungo muttered, going from barrel to barrel and shelf to shelf, his hand cupping his chin in a thoughtful manner.

"Tha' should just about do it." Mungo said, after a good thirty minutes' worth of closely examining nearly everything in the shop. Penoria breathed a sigh of relief, and hurriedly grabbed the various bags and bottles from Mungo and went to pay for them.

"I say, what do you think about Black then?" Duncan asked Mungo suddenly while Penoria was gone.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Mungo asked, oblivious.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't noticed!" Duncan said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell me you haven't heard about Black's escape!"

"Well, then I won't." Mungo said, slightly miffed.

Duncan was nonplussed. He had expected Mungo to say sheepishly that he hadn't heard all the big news, apparently.

"Erm, right. Well, there're posters everywhere… And I read a copy of the Daily Prophet today." (The Abendroths did not get the Daily Prophet, as they could not risk having large owls seen in daylight bringing newspapers. Their neighbour, Mrs. Rescotty, was an exception; she told all the Muggle neighbours that she was a biologist who studied owls.)

Duncan coughed nervously.

"Anyway, a few weeks ago Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban!" Duncan said.

Mungo staggered a bit. His parents had told him once or twice about Sirius Black, and what they had to say of him was not good.

"Escaped! But no one's ever, _ever_ escaped from Azkaban!" Mungo exclaimed.

"Who's escaped?" Penoria asked, finished with her purchasing. "Let's discuss it outside, it's smothering in here."

Reluctantly (at least on Mungo's part) they left the Apothecary and walked along the street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"The wizard who escaped from Azkaban was Sirius Black." Duncan said. "He was imprisoned for killing thirteen people with one curse."

"Awful!" Penoria gasped. "Who'd do that?"

"A mad man." Mungo said, shaking his head.

"Anyway, he's escaped, and the whole Ministry is on the hunt for him, dead or alive. Even the Muggles have been told about him, that he's carrying a gun." Duncan said as they passed the cauldron shop.

"Well, I do hope they find him soon. Just awful…" Penoria said, shuddering. Mungo patted her shoulder, and she brightened up fractionally.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, there was a bit of a racket in the pub. Weasley, Potter's friend, was clutching something grey and shabby in his hands and shouting at a bushy-haired girl holding a rather snub-faced orange cat. Duncan's eyes glittered at the sight of the cat, but darkened when he heard Weasley's words.

"You call that a cat? More like a pig with hair if you ask me."

"Well, that's rich, coming from the owner of a grey scrubbrush." The girl retorted. Suddenly, Weasley looked up at the stairs and said,

"Hello, Harry!"

Mungo (and most of the other patrons of the pub,) looked up at the staircase and saw a black-haired boy in glasses. The Weasley and Granger (for that was who the bushy-haired girl was, Mungo realized) immediately stopped arguing.

Mungo lost interest and sat down at a table. Penoria and Duncan joined him, and Penoria gasped.

"Wow! Harry Potter! Imagine him staying here, eh, Mung?" Penoria asked.

"Believe me, Penoria, ye see him so much at Hogwarts the novelty wears off." Mungo said, watching the door from Diagon Alley intently.

"I guess so. Like that time Gilderoy Lockhart came to our town and gave a book-signing."

Mungo shuddered.

"Never, never, _never_ remind me of" Here Mungo paused to employ just the right amount of disgust into his voice, "_Lockhart_, ever again. You know what he did, jus' as I was climbin' oot o' th' Chamber o'-"

Mungo was interrupted by a painful kick on his shins by Duncan, who was twisting his face into a series of positions that were clearly meant to be warning glances, but falling short of the mark.

"Eh, long story. But he was an ignorant git." Mungo finished, thumping the table.

"I know. We had a rather violent ghoul in town, and it had been a real nuisance for weeks. The Ministry was too busy to deal with it, and then here comes Gileroy Lockhart, acclaimed author of _Gadding with Ghouls_ and _Voyages with Vampires_ and all that trash, and so we asked him if, after the signing, he could deal with it, and he says, 'Erm, no, it's a late night. I'll deal with it tomorrow.' And next morning, he was gone with the first light of dawn."

"Hm. Rather picturesque." Duncan muttered.

"It was craven! I got so angry and upset that I went and threw _Holidays with Hags_ at that ghoul. It hasn't jiggled so much as a jelly since then." Penoria said happily. "Daddy was so proud, he bought me a cat."

"A cat!" Duncan exclaimed joyously.

Penoria obviously mistook Duncan's excitement for derisiveness, and her face darkened.

"You don't like cats?"

"Penoria. Ye are talking to a lad who loves cats more than kith and kin, more than… Well, I can't say books, that would be exaggerating, but… He loves cats more than a rather hefty amount of other things." Mungo interjected.

At that moment, the door to Diagon Alley opened (keep in mind that I mean the door to the grungy little spot just _before_ the actual gateway) and Duncan's and Mungo's parents came in. After that conversation was, well, dispersed into less important matters.

They talked of many things, mostly advising Penoria on Hogwarts and its many passageways and staircases. Mungo's interest in the conversation began to wane, and he looked around the tavern. He saw a tall, red-haired man take Potter aside for a moment, and they began talking and walking along behind some columns, which all had posters for the capture of Sirius Black. They were slowly drawing nearer, and their conversation was beginning to look serious.

Mungo was not, of course, the type to eavesdrop, but he couldn't resist straining his ears to hear.

"Harry, you must promise me not to go _looking _for Black."

"Mr. Weasley, why would I want to go looking for someone who wants to kill me?"

At that point, Mungo was violently brought back into the conversation by a sharp poke by Penoria. He said whatever was wanted, and slipped into a state of thoughtfulness. Sirius Black was searching for Harry Potter? Why?

Mungo reviewed as much as he remembered, every mention of Sirius Black. He had been a big supporter of You-Know-Who, Mungo remembered that… But he also remembered his parents saying that Black was a traitor… He was probably a traitor to the Ministry of Magic.

All in all, Mungo could not conjure a connection between Sirius Black and Harry Potter. He went to bed disappointed, not a little to the confusion of his friends.

((All right! Finally finished with the third chapter. I'm sorry if I got some of the lines from the movie wrong, but, there you are. Next chapter is coming up soon.))


	4. Chapter Four: The Ostracized Oak

**Chapter Four: The Ostracized Oak**

Almost before Mungo knew it, which was, sadly, fairly long afterwards, they had their bags out on the pavement outside the Leaky Cauldron, sweaty from the exertion of pulling them down the stairs, and dreading packing them into a single car compartment. The compromise was that Mungo, Penoria, and Duncan had to ride to the station in the Gorssons' car, and the Abendroths had to take the luggage in the back seat and hope it didn't fall out through the floor due to its sheer weight and the frailty of the vehicle.

Mungo, Duncan, and Penoria soon forgot about the imminent peril of their luggage, and were chatting animatedly, giving various bits and pieces of advice to Penoria about Hogwarts. They reached the station after an hour of blissfully ignored Muggle traffic (the children ignored the traffic, Mr. Gorsson was constantly cursing it.) They clambered out of the car and got trolleys to carry their luggage on. They had to wait for quite a bit, as the Abendroths' car got stuck in the traffic worse than the Gorssons' had, due to their understanding of and obedience to Muggle traffic laws.

When the car finally arrived, they unloaded their entire luggage onto the trolleys, and headed inside the station.

It was nearing 10:45, and Mungo was getting fretful. He quickly headed for the barrier between two stations and ran at it, not waiting for instructions or a plan.

He was going full tilt at the barrier, only thinking of getting through, when he rammed into it with a horrible, deafening crash. The trolley tilted over, and his suitcase skidded off and hit a lamp post with a discordant clang.

"Oh no, it's sealed itself!" Mungo said, climbing up frantically and slapping it. Strong hands pulled him away, and Mungo saw Mr. Gorsson.

"Mungo, that's the wrong barrier. That's between platforms 8 and 9." Mr. Gorsson explained, setting the trolley right and putting the luggage back on.

Mungo, needless to say, felt extremely stupid.

After dispersing the concerned and angry Muggles ("It's all right, the wheels of this trolley are really wobbly. The lad lost control." "Fiddlesticks. Of course he's not daft.") they proceeded cautiously through the correct barrier, Mungo's face still red. Mungo went last this time, as if everyone else wanted to make sure it was the right barrier before they trusted Mungo with it.

When they got through, it was even more crowded than Mungo remembered it being last year. Students and parents alike were jostling to get onto the train, the parents to help their children with their luggage and say good-bye.

Mungo, Duncan, and Penoria decided it would be easier to say their goodbyes on the platform, the better to penetrate the masses. Mungo and Penoria hugged Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson, and shook hands with the Abendroths.

"You have a good term, Mungo. And keep an eye on Duncan." Mr. Abendroth said to Mungo.

"Why? He's never done anything wrong-" Mungo started.

"I mean, make sure he gets out of the library for a bite or two every once and a while, okay?" Mr. Abendroth said, smiling.

Duncan rolled his eyes and dragged Mungo by the sleeve to the train, the luggage trailing awkwardly. Penoria followed afterwards, easily following in the wake of Mungo's erratically swinging trunk.

Heaving their suitcases on board, Mungo, Penoria, and Duncan pushed their way to a compartment near the front of the train, which only had a sleeping, black-haired first year boy. They stowed their trunks as quietly as they could manage, and sat down around him. Uncomfortably.

Mungo looked outside the window, and saw that the train had already started moving, the platform sliding by. A rather plump, red-haired woman started running along the train, holding something grey in her hands, and passing it up to a window. Mungo promptly ignored it.

Thus they sat, not daring to talk for fear of awaking the newcomer to Hogwarts. The countryside rolled by silently, and still he slept. After the trolley lady came and went, they eventually decided that they could probably talk comfortably. If an eleven-year-old boy didn't wake up at the sign of sweets, he wouldn't mind a small bit of conversation.

Mungo leaned forward, away from the boy.

"Well, this was aboot t' seem like the quietest trip to Hogwarts I've ever been on, at any rate." He said in a quiet voice.

Duncan nodded, and said,

"I hear you. This chap can sleep through a lot, can't he?"

Conversation collapsed for a moment. Then, with a sudden clarity of mind, Mungo remembered what he had heard in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Duncan! I've just remembered something. Ye recall tha' Harry Potter was stayin' at th' Leaky Cauldron with us?" He said, rather more loudly than he wished, but ignoring it due to his eagerness.

"Yes," Duncan agreed noncommittally. Harry Potter was not a subject that greatly excited either of them, except for the You-Know-Who part. Celebrities are all fine and good, but when you live near them in school for a year the starshine begins to wear off.

"Well, I heard him talkin' t' a man, might ha' been Weasley's father, and Mr. Weasley warned Harry noot t' go lookin' fer Sirius Black. An' then Harry asked why would he wan' t' goo lookin' fer someone who wanted t' kill him. Apparently, Harry thinks that Black is after him, but why?"

Penoria came up with an answer right away.

"Dad has a friend who's in the Ministry, a magical law enforcement officer, or something. Anyway, I heard them talking, and Dad's friend said that Sirius Black was a big supporter of You-Know-Who, like second in command. After Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who, it seems that Sirius Black felt that if Harry was dead, then You-Know-Who might just come back. So that's probably what Potter and Mr. Weasley were talking about."

"But, as Potter so aptly put it, why would he want to go looking for someone who wanted to kill him?" Duncan asked.

"I dunno. Maybe Mr. Weasley thought tha' Potter had some kind o' hero complex, an' tha' he wanted t' goo after Black himself." Mungo said.

"Pfft. Potter's not stupid. Black's killed thirteen fully grown people, a thirteen-year-old wizard's not going to be much of an obstacle." Duncan scoffed.

The train very suddenly lurched, as if it was stopping. Mungo swiftly looked outside, looking for the platform he had been wanting to see all summer. However, the scene outside wasn't there; the train was in the middle of a bridge over a valley. It was getting dark, and rain was beginning to fall.

"We're noot there yet, why's the train stopped?" Mungo placed his hand on the window, to support himself to see higher.

Mungo squinted, and saw faint black figures swiftly flying towards the train. Mungo watched a while longer, and saw that they weren't riding broomsticks. He gasped in realization, and quickly withdrew his hand from the pane of glass. He frantically took hold of the thin curtains by the window and slid them closed

"There're dementors approaching the train!" Mungo whispered. He drew his wand out of his sheath, and started feeling in his pockets.

"What! Dementors? I thought they only lived in Azkaban!" Penoria said, leaping for the window too. She accidentally knocked the first year with her knee, and he woke up with a start.

"What's the idea?" He snarled at Penoria.

"Dementors are approaching the train, twit!" She snapped back.

"Get back from the window!" Mungo hissed, pulling Penoria back away. "We wan' this compartmen' t' be empty!"

The lights flickered and died, eerily. Mungo perked his ears, listening for any sound. But there wasn't any noise in the deathly stillness.

"Duncan, latch the door!" Mungo whispered. Duncan turned pale, and withdrew his wand from a pocket. He crept to the door, and poked his head outside along the corridor. He gasped and hurriedly shut the compartment door, fumbling with the lock.

"They're right outside! In the corridor!" He whispered frantically, pouncing back onto the seat.

Mungo nodded, and found what he had been looking for in his pockets. They were some potions that sparkled with a reddish light.

"Smash these on the floor if they get in, and shield yer eyes. They're jest light potions, but it migh' deter them a bit, spook them off."

"Light potions? Spook dementors?" the first year asked incredulously.

"Aye, made from Clabbert postules. Emits a blinding-"

"Hush!" Duncan said, watching the door. A tall, dark figure could be seen through the clouded pane of glass, and it paused. Mungo began to feel a cold seeping into his very bones, even though he was tightly wrapped in his school robes. He began feeling depressed, going over sad thoughts in his mind… Mungo shook his head like a worried horse. Then, suddenly, a bright image flashed into his mind: a reptilian head with bloody, ruined eyes. He yelped, and the figure behind the glass reached an arm to the handle.

Duncan roared something incomprehensible, and threw himself at the catch, fighting with the figure for control of the door. His arms strained, and the cold lessened subtly. Again, the bloody eyes of the basilisk appeared in Mungo's mind, and the first year was whimpering.

Suddenly, it appeared that Duncan won against the dementor, for the figure released the handle and floated away towards the back of the train. The deathly cold began to fade, and at last had completely vanished. Everyone breathed a gasp of relief, and soon the lights relit and the train was moving. However, everyone was speechless, stunned by the encounter. Mungo stared blankly at the door, Penoria fidgeted, and the first year was still shivering. Duncan was the only one showing any animation, digging in his luggage for something. In an instant he found it, a grey-covered book, and started flipping through it.

"Chocolate! Chocolate will make us feel better." Duncan exclaimed a few moments later.

"Always worked for me." Penoria said glumly, picking up a yet unwrapped Chocolate Frog. She unwrapped it unconcernedly, letting the Wizard Card fall to the floor, and took a bite.

"What ho! He's right!" She said immediately, smiling.

Mungo hurriedly got a Chocolate frog as well, and bit into with a relish. Liquid warmth seemed to flow under his skin, allaying all his worries and cold from the dementor attack. He grinned, and started putting his light potions back into his pocket.

After everyone had finished eating their chocolate, they became more animated.

"What was all that about?" Was the first and obvious question, so obvious that I wonder why I even bother writing it. It barely even matters who said it. But for those who care about such details, it was Penoria.

"They might have been searching for Sirius Black here. The papers say that they're using dementors to look for him." Duncan said, still eyeing the doorknob. He kept wringing his hands, as if they were dirty.

"Come off it," the first year said, apparently regaining his confidence. "Why would they think he was going on a train?"

"They don't have eyes, they can't tell that it's a train. All they can feel is a bunch of happy wizards and witches, maybe one or two unhappy ones, and a couple evil gits like Morrigan and Erebus-" Duncan replied.

"My name is Derek Erebus." The first-year growled. "I can only assume the 'evil git' is referring to my brother, Benjamin Erebus."

Mungo and Duncan stared at the first year for a second.

"He's told me loads about Scotty McGorsson and Dumbcan…" He said, beginning to leer.

"I can oonly assume that 'Scotty McGorsson' is no' some kind of Muggle quick food product." Mungo said, mimicking Derek's growling voice.

"Well, I'm not going to spend too much time bothering you 'hard working' Hufflepuffs. I suppose the few Hufflepuff graduates from Hogwarts get Ministry pensions just for feeding themselves." Derek got up hurriedly, seized his trunk, and left before Mungo could collect his outraged nerves to hex the stuffing out of the snotty git.

Duncan smiled.

"It's called fast food." He said to Mungo.

"Well, I suppose gittiness runs in th' family." Mungo said angrily, absentmindedly tearing a Chocolate Frog wrapper with his hands. "I think the odds are favourable that he's gooin' t' Slytherin."

"So they thought Sirius Black was on the train?" Penoria asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Erebus and his family, who Mungo and Duncan were now heavily abusing.

"Apparently." Duncan said. "Or else there was just too many feelings on the train for them to ignore. The alliance with dementors and wizard's are not as tight as some would wish, or as some people in the Ministry want to believe."

They sat discussing the dementors for a while, until a particularly heated discussion about Ministry controls over dementors was cut short by the announcement of the approach of the castle. Mungo and Duncan hurriedly stuffed a few odds and ends into their suitcases and left with the rest of the teeming mass of students. Penoria clutched at Mungo's skinny wrist, not wanting to get separated in the press of children wanting to get out of the train and into the comforting confines of Hogwarts.

Mungo could hear the chattering of the students about the dementor attack. There was talk of someone fainting, but Mungo couldn't catch the name.

They made their way outside, where it was pouring a dreary, dark, depressing rain. Mungo grinned smugly. His prized hat was water-proof, the pouring rain sluicing off it like water on a duck's back.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a deep, hoarse voice called out over the crowd, coming from what looked like a desperately wet bear.

"Go along with him, Penoria, it's all righ' tha's jus' Hagrid." Mungo said, giving her a little encouraging pat.

"Just Hagrid?" Penoria asked skeptically, as if the gameskeeper was too much to be a 'just Hagrid,' but went forward with the other first-years. Mungo saw her squint and stick out her toe out to trip somebody successfully, but Mungo didn't see whom.

Mungo watched for a little while, remembering his own first night at Hogwarts. Then he remembered the other students. He looked around, and saw the last couple students trailing along a path. Mungo ran along after them, and caught them getting into a carriage.

"Oy! Let me in!" Mungo shouted, but the students swiftly closed the door and laughed and made faces at him. Mungo's stomach dropped as he realized that they were none other than Erebus and Morrigan, his worst rivals.

The carriage rattled away, and it was then that Mungo realized that there was nothing driving it. But it didn't matter to Mungo. It wouldn't matter to Mungo if dragons were pulling the carriages. He was now going to have to trudge all the way to the school, in the rain and mud.

Mungo groaned, swore a little under his breath, and drew his wand. He waggled it at some rocks and turned them into green galoshes.

"Tha'll help a wee bit." Mungo growled, slipping them over his shoes.

"Jus' a wee bit further…" Mungo whispered wearily twenty minutes later. His galoshes had torn apart after a treacherous root tripped him, and now Mungo was muddy, cold, and hungry. He could see the castle lights ahead, and by the slowly brightening moonlight Mungo noticed that, for some reason, Hogwarts looked a lot more rugged.

There was also a severely depressed-looking tree on the side of the road. It was hard for Mungo to read emotions from a tree, but this one looked like its sole purpose in life was to show people the utter depths of sorrow there were in the world.

As Mungo passed by, the tree sighed.

"Go on, walk on by, just like all the others." A breezy, rasping voice said. Mungo started and stared at the tree. The bark seemed to have twisted themselves into a tragic face, whose mouth appeared to say the words.

"Every year, year after year, they roll in on their carriages, chatting happily about the exciting school year ahead, and pass me by without even saying 'Oh, Merlin's Beard, what an ugly tree that is.'"

"Ye're a talking tree!" Mungo said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, I can talk. Samuel Goldwater cast a charm on this tree sixty years ago, on the way home, and never cared enough to take it off. But no one cares about me."

Mungo was feeling very uncomfortable. He started edging cautiously up the road.

"Surely someone cares aboot ye," He tried, smiling encouragingly.

"No one does. I have to squeeze what little water I get from the ground, no one pays any attention. When my leaves fall in the autumn, I have to clear them away MYSELF so they don't rot around me. It takes hours just to move one of my twigs, by the time I've cleared away the leaves it's winter and I get the most horrible aches in my left branches, but no one cares…"

The tree's monologue drifted off as Mungo hurriedly pounded off into the distance. There are only so many things one can do in a scything rain, and trying to comfort a tree was too much to ask of Mungo.

Finally, Mungo trudged between the gates between the statues of the winged boars. He could see the grand doors of the entrance hall beckoning him. Mungo gritted his teeth and ran the remaining distance to them, desperate not to be left out any longer.

Mungo reached the doors, and gave them a heartfelt pat. He pulled them open and slid on the slick floor, twisting and landing painfully on his side. He swore, and scrambled back onto his feet. Mungo limped over to the doors of the Great Hall, and slid subtly through the doors. He heard the Sorting Hat's voice shout out "Ravenclaw" as he tried to walk inconspicuously to the Hufflepuff table. He sat down next to Duncan, who immediately started bombarding him with questions.

"Where the devil were you? You look a mess, mate, what happened?" He asked, scooting a bit further along the bench to get away from Mungo's dripping muddiness.

"Shh sh sh! What's this?" Mungo asked, gesturing weakly to the front of the Great Hall. The first years had just been completely Sorted, and a number of other students with extremely fat toads were clustering in front of the Great Hall.

Duncan shook Mungo concernedly.

"That's the Sorting Ceremony, Mungo. You had it last year." Duncan said.

"They're dooin' it in groups now?" Mungo asked sarcastically.

"What? Oh, Dumbledore said something about a special musical treat. I hope it's better than the school song. Did you know he wrote that himself?" Duncan said matter-of-factly.

"I reckon I did." Mungo said, smiling.

The choir started up, singing to Professor Flitwick's energetic arm movements. For a few seconds, Mungo had trouble finding the gist of the song, but then he managed to catch things such as toil and trouble, and cauldron bubble, but he was far too tired to catch any gist of it. The last phrase caught his ear, however:

"Something wicked this way comes!" A toad croaked, (Mungo had great difficulty finding their purpose in the performance, and decided it needed further reflection later) and the girls walked off the stage.

"Something wicked this way comes? That's a nice way to start off the school year." Duncan said cryptically.

"Maybe they were talkin' aboot th' exams." Mungo said. They chuckled a bit to themselves until Dumbledore walked up to a gilt pedestal, flanked by dripping wax candles and carved owls; a new feature. Mungo noticed several things different about Dumbledore this year; his hair was grayer, his voice was stronger, deeper, and had a different accent, and he wore a different hat.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." He began speaking, as the Hall respectfully fell silent at his words. "Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast." First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, professor." He swept his hand graciously towards the staff table at the head of the hall, where a man in dusty, pale green robes, with straw-blonde hair and a thin mustache, bowed briefly. It was his ill-luck to be seated by Professor Severus Snape, who was glaring at him with a wrath that Mungo would flee to Taiwan to be free of.

"Is it jus' me, or does Snape seem t' dislike Professor Lupin more than he disliked Bundimun?" Mungo asked Duncan, referring to Gilderoy Lockhart, a man whose intelligence and force of personality was similar to a small, magical creature that resembled a piece of moss and that bit unwary toes.

"Dislike? I haven't seen a such a look of pure hatred since Mum saw what Emperor Fredrick did to the sofa. I'd watch myself around Snape this year." Duncan answered, as Professor Dumbledore resumed speaking.

"In addition, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid."

Most of the school applauded as the huge man stood up, nearly knocking over the table in his haste, Duncan and Mungo clapping rather half-heartedly. They didn't have his classes, and thus were unaffected by this decision, and they had only met him for a brief detention in which they buried dead roosters. But he had a reputation of being kindly, and friendly to the students, so they wound up applauding him anyway.

"Finally," Dumbledore said gravely after the cheers had died down, "On a more disquieting note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the dementors of Azkaban, until such a time as Sirius Black is captured." The students immediately began whispering fearfully amongst themselves, but Mungo and Duncan paid close attention to what Professor Dumbledore said over the muttering student body.

"The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They'll not distinguish between the one the hunt and the one that gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving."

The school took it hard. Fearful faces looked on one another, and whispers along the lines of "Dementors? Are they mad?" floated around the Great Hall. Dumbledore, seeing this, raised his hands, and silence fell as he spoke more cheerfully.

"But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times," he swept his hand over a candle nearby, and it flickered out. "...if one only remembers to turn on the light!" and he swept it back, and the light re-appeared. At the same time, the tables groaned as they took the burden of the huge feast that suddenly appeared, to feed the famished students.

Mungo dug in with his usual relish, tackling everything in reach and more. For a while, talk was abandoned as he ate steaks, potatoes mashed, fried, boiled, and baked, chicken, and everything else. When the dessert came, his experience with Hogwarts feasts had served him well; he had left enough room for his favourites: Rich, chewy brownies, quivering jellies, and a heaping bowlful of plain vanilla ice cream. At last, the food and plates vanished again, and it was time to go to their dormitories.

Several minutes later, swept along by the tide of other Hufflepuffs, Duncan and Mungo made their way down into the cellars of the castle, and to the statue at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. Exhausted and yawning, the friends went to their old room where they had spent most of last year, which Mungo was (in his exhausted state) surprised to see that the plaque now said 'Second Years.'

They got into their familiar old beds, with their familiar trunks at the end, with the customary hum of all the activities of the castle above. Suddenly, a shrill shriek ran through the entire castle, and a glass of water by Mungo's bed shattered into small pieces.

"Blast tha' Fat Lady, tha's time number one this year." Mungo muttered as he habitually swept the shards off onto the floor behind the nightstand. "Welcome back t' Hogwarts, Duncan," he said as he took off his glasses and hat and laid down to sleep.

"Shut up and go to sleep already!" Duncan grumbled irately. "Between you, the Fat Lady, and the library, it's going to be a wonder if I get any rest at all this term!"

Author's Note: I personally deeply regret the passing away of Richard Harris, the 'old' Dumbledore. He was always what I pictured Dumbledore to be, and I can only say that we miss him.


End file.
